


Bygones.

by CescaLR



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Yogscast
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Blackrock Chronicles, F/M, Gen, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Not RPF, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tekkit, the apprentice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: ‘But who I’m looking for – he’s the best bet we’ve got.’Lalna added, under his breath but loud enough for her to hear, ‘regretfully.’She didn’t ask.(She never asked. Not about his past, at any rate. Once, and its consequences, is enough, thank you very much.)





	1. Adversary.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long enough time ago that anything past The Apprentice and the early episodes of Rising are not applicable to this fic, unless I chose to incorporate elements from the revealed canon. This interpretation of the canon we had is thusly different from the other interpretations you've seen from me, as it's much older - the style of writing is also different because i wrote this ages before the other two yogs fics on my acc. 
> 
> You can tell I was younger when I wrote this because a) ANGST, DARK, MAKE IT SAD, and b) ALL THE IMPLIED, ALWAYS IMPLIED, DON'T OUTRIGHT STATE ANYTHING, EVER.
> 
> (So you know - there are no clones in this. All characters have been through everything - the only clones are the Yoglabs ones that let Players respawn in their beds. So all of it is canon - the games, the series, the maps/challenges, etc.)

The crater is dark. The obsidian cage is yet darker; as if it were sucking what little light made its way down the hole into itself.

Two men are across from each other. One, is in the cage, surrounded by obsidian, glass.

TNT.

He pushes his goggles up with a rubber-gloved hand (and why is it gloved? He has his armour; his gauntlet, on the other hand… why not armour this hand, as well?), revealing his blue eyes – augmented, the other man notes; did he keep anything of himself the way it should be? The way it was? – shine unnaturally in the darkness. The (green, with a brown leather strap; he still uses those?) goggles push his blonde hair up; it bunches against his forehead.

(It’s longer than it used to be.)

The man sighs, and with muffled mechanical sounds leans against the glass – reinforced; the other still remembers some of what he was taught and he isn’t a stupid man – and sighs again.

He looks around his limited view, opens his mouth as if to make some comment, but seems to think twice (for once) and closes it.

The other, a tall, very tall (He’s taller than the other, now – unnaturally so) man, with brown (and ashen blonde; he never fixed that, why’d he never fix that?) hair and tanned skin.

Purple eyes.

(They used to be blue, too.)

(Jade green. Blue. Sea green. It makes no difference. The Scientist thinks the purple as unnatural as the Mage thinks the luminous blue is unnatural for him.)

The lower half of the Mage’s face is covered; a strategically placed scarf, like some sort of mask to hide his identity. That’s not what its hiding.

(At least it’s not full-face, like it used to be. Maybe he’s getting better, now.)

He steps forward, slightly, detonator in hand.

The silence stretches on.

 _‘Lalna.’_ The man says, greeting the Scientist.

 _‘Rythian.’_ He says in return.

(The silence is deafening.)

The mage carelessly tosses the detonator up and down, catches it with ease.

He throws it higher each time, yet the Scientist, Lalna, seems wholly unconcerned.

 _‘I’m sorry.’_ He says, blithely. There is no regret, no guilt, present on his face.

No micro expressions the Mage, Rythian, can read either. Sometimes he wonders if this is even the man–

If this is some robot. If this – being, isn’t even a Player.

(He isn’t _really_ descended of Notch’s Will, either, but at least he seems to have their emotions. This – thing, it has not even a facsimile of them. He likes to think he- _it,_ doesn’t, anyhow.)

 _‘About all this.’_ The Scientist continues. _‘Your home… it was rather a good build. These tunnels though; that’s a surprise. But then, not really. Zoey came and visited me, did you know that? Asked for my help. How is she, anyway?’_

There was a pause.

Rythian ponders telling him she died; if only to keep it away from them. But he won’t.

(There’s – something. If not in his eyes; for they aren’t really _eyes,_ any longer, then in his face, in the way his brows draw and his mouth curves slightly when speaking of her.)

 _‘She’s in hospital.’_ He says instead, and for a second, _a nanosecond,_ he sees concern flash across the other’s face.

(Maybe he isn’t an ‘ _it’,_ after all. Or maybe the void is not below bedrock. Maybe they aren’t all doomed. Anything can exist as a maybe, after all.)

( _Quantum state,_ he was once told. That was a while ago, when war was much less likely and friendship between players was freely given.

When Gods weren’t Players. When Players didn’t try to become Gods.

They were all so much more _innocent,_ back then.)

 _‘Her arm is gone and she was dead, if only for a minute.’_ He continues, and there – a flash, a colour shift in the lenses of his false irises, and the Mage wonders why the other would install colour changing mood-based lenses; he’d never liked to be at a disadvantage, after all.

 _‘I – You didn’t leave?’_ The Scientist asks, seemingly incredulous.

 _‘She didn’t leave.’_ He said in reply.

The silence comes back, stronger. _Lalna_ sighs, closes his eyes and breaths, and listens to the whirring of his equipment.

( _He hadn’t thought they’d stay with **it** there. He was sorry; but at the same time, he wasn’t. Players respawn, after all; what’s a little death, to them?)_

( _He remembers explosions and pain and radiation and backstabbing and survival games and slow, painful deaths in worlds without Respawn, and steadfastly ignores the times it means **something.)**_

The silence is back.

 _‘You going to hit the switch or what, Rythian?’_ The Scientist says, finally. The silence is broken, and air seems loud in the quiet night.

Breathing almost seems like – like it’s against some rules of the universe, and as only they can, they simply stop doing so.

( _They don’t realise, the two men, that they both did this. Neither could hear the other’s breaths, through the glass and obsidian.)_

The mage tightens his grip, and with a strange strength crushes the detonator, lets its dust fall through his fingers onto the blocky ground.

 _‘I propose a treaty.’_ The Mage, _Rythian_ says, calm and unwavering but voice cold, hard and unforgiving.

_(There was laughter, once. A brightness; always willing to share and to teach, to be taught even if wary of using the knowledge himself. It – That, is gone, now._

_It left with the Old World’s destruction. It may never, ever come back.)_

_‘We’ll leave the other alone?’_ Lalna guesses.

_‘Help if – if it is **absolutely** necessary.’_

Rythian rarely ever stumbles (stumbled) over his words; Lalna was both confused and (though he would never, ever admit it, not even to his dying breath; and wasn’t that a change from how it was, Before?) the slightest, tiniest bit concerned.

But he had heard. The Villagers whispered in their language, and he’d known it for as long as he could remember. They all had.

(Whispers of It, of _Her._ The Mage must know of what’s Coming, as well, if he’s even considering a Pact of Co-operation between them.)

 _‘Alright.’_ The Scientist said. He nodded.

The Mage broke the glass with a wave of his hand (He no longer had to touch it; this was more than he remembered) and tossed the Scientist his (spare, removable, unnecessary yet needed to fool others) power glove. And then passed over the portal gun.

With another wave of his hand, the obsidian turned to sand.

(Somehow, it did not fall down until he’d portal-ed out of there. The Mage, by then, was already gone.)

The Scientist observed the crater. He looked over in the direction he knew they must have gone, yet did not plan anything.

Lalna turned, and flew.

(He had a castle to run, and two -four, these days- idiots to fool.)

* * *

And so, it lasted; the silence. For a while.

The two men saw neither hide nor hair of each other for months, years; the scientist keeping to his castle and the four other Players he was acquainted with, and the Mage staying in the desert with _the_ Girl, and the Dinosaur.

(Lalna wondered if Teep remembered the Park. He thinks not; there hadn’t seemed to be any recognition when they’d met again, when Zoeya had asked him for help.)

Then things changed. A girl fell out of the sky, into water, and became the Scientist’s apprentice.

They made a pact of revenge.

(Now, doesn’t that sound familiar? Rythian refuses to think so, even when Ravs talks of the other Players over a pint of (definitely not squid) beer, talks of their actions and the drama and the… consequences.)

(Even when Zoey makes the connection, sitting up in her hospital bed, tinkering with her arm. She sees nothing wrong with this development; Rythian hopes the other girl finds out the truth about _Him_ before it’s too late.

Before she gets hurt.)

But yet, it still stays the same. For a while.

And yet…

_‘She’ll – I think her name is Nano, cute right? – be okey-dokey; I mean, lal ain’t **so** bad, he’s even helped me out before! All this, I mean. He helped me with weapons! Erm, which granted probs doesn’t give you any relief, but still!_

_(And it’s not that I sent him a message on how to get this arm integrated with my nervous system, no ma’am I did not)’_

Zoey grinned at him. Under her breath, she muttered _‘saved it.’_

Rythian _looked_ at her, conveying disbelief even with just his eyes visible. _‘Right. It’s not like he **tried and succeeded to nuke our home and kill you.** ’ _

She put down her screwdriver, satisfied, then waved a hand dismissively. _‘Pssht. C’mon Ryth! Let bygones be bygones. ‘Sides,’_ She added, ‘ _S’not like he actually **wanted** me dead. That was an accident. Plus – He’s smart, right? She’ll be fine.’ _

Rythian glowered at nothing, before sighing and relenting.

 _‘And you guys promised to leave the other alone besides, so you can’t really do anything anyway!’_ Zoeya said brightly, as if it was a positive.

(She thought it was. Revenge was… not the best look on her – friend.)

(Neither was loneliness.)

Rythian started glowering again. Zoeya pursed her lips, ever so slightly, before smiling and punching him on the arm.

_‘Come on, Rythian. Let’s look for fishton!’_

He glanced at her, frowned at her arm and looked at the cast on her leg pointedly.

 _‘Tee’ll carry me.’_ She said, blithely, before hopping up onto one leg.

She gestured for the Mage to follow, and he did so, wordlessly and without gesture keeping her from falling with his magic.

(He may not have much, but things like that were always parlour tricks to him. He’d always liked following each universe’s magic’s rules; but something about her… Well.

He likes to help his friends, is all.)

(There are few times he’s broken the rules; and the last one… was major. A little support is nothing in comparison.

And it’s not him (or her, or Teep) that will suffer the consequences, regardless.)

* * *

_‘So. My castle.’_ The Scientist gestured, all encompassing. _‘What d’you think?’_

NanoSounds tilted her head. _‘Big.’_ She said, simply. _‘I can barely build a wooden shack; this is pretty – I dunno, cool.’_

Lalna grinned.

She rolled her eyes.

 _‘So, this is your tower.’_ He pointed to the door on his right. She looked at it, suspiciously.

Inside were a - … bunch of mushrooms surrounding a big mushroom?

 _‘We’re not in tamriel, are we?’_ She asked, before frowning. (‘Tamriel?’) The other grinned. _‘Sadly, no. Gladly, no – there’s no science there. Anyway, this was left by Zoey so just…’_ He flailed a hand, then scratched the back of his head. ‘ _Uh – scrap it. Build what you want in here, I guess.’_

 _‘Zoey?’_ She asked. He started what she liked to call _teaching mode._

 _‘Zoeya Mushroom – or, at least, that’s the best I can figure for her last name – is…_ ’ There was a pause, and she frowned as his eyes flickered behind the goggles.

 _‘A… friend.’_ He said, carefully. His eyes flickered, again.

The man grinned down at her and pushed his goggles up, his eyes a luminous blue.

(She decided not to ask. About the eyes, or the careful word choice.

He seemed to want her to think well of him. She wonders why.)

(He can’t have that bad a rep, can he?)

 _‘So.’_ He started, _‘Want to see the wine cellar?’_

She grinned. The segue wasn’t great, sure, but it was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with the topic.

She decided not to push her luck.

(She’d been killed for it, previously.)

_‘Yeah, sure.’_

* * *

 

And time goes on.

Days, weeks, months pass, and the girl is no more an apprentice than Zoeya ever really was; but rather, as Zoey is now…

A friend. But, just a friend, rather than what Zoeya is to Rythian.

(Which is just a friend, as he is to her. Obviously.)

(Ignore the previous clarification.)

Days, weeks, months pass, and the other group; Zoeya, Rythian, Teep, they leave their desert.

Zoeya is better, now. As she wanted, they’re on an adventure.

At least, that’s what Lalna hears.

He also hears pounding.

The Scientist frowns, and scratches below his ear.

The pounding continues.

‘Not a headache, then’, he thought, frown deepening, eyes going a darker blue. ‘Okay.’

He leaves the main tower, and sees the vines on Nano’s tower.

‘Ah.’

The Scientist cautiously removes the blockade, and the girl falls out, the door in splinters.

And the girl is less a – whatever kind of Player she’d been, now.

Lalna grimaces.

 _‘Fuck you.’_ She grouses. _‘It’s been what – a fucking **year?’**_ She punches him, but as usual she chooses the rubber-gloved arm and it does nothing except bring her fingers pain.

 _‘Ah! Crap.’_ She curses, and curses more, cradling her hand to her chest.

 _‘You’re lucky I had food in there.’_ She grumbled. _‘I could’a **died,** Dunc. Death! It’s a thing, you know!’ _

She punched him again, except this time his armour stopped her from doing any damage.

 _‘Fuck!’_ She muttered, glaring at him.

_‘Is there anywhere I can punch you?’_

He winced. ‘ _I’d advise against it, Nan.’_

She glared. _‘Kim.’_

Lalna looked puzzled. _‘Kim?...’_

She nodded. He shrugged. _‘Whatever Nano. Kim it is.’_

She pursed her lips.

 _‘I have purple gunk all over me.’_ She informed him, suddenly.

He frowned, unconcerned yet (worryingly) feeling _something_ about that.

_‘Right. I can see that.’_

She huffed, an oily strand of unwashed hair flying away from her face.

 _‘Fuck you.’_ She repeated. _‘This? Your fault.’_

She poked him on the nose, reaching up and hopping slightly to reach.

He squawked and leaned backwards, but she still managed to get purple gunk on his face.

 _‘I have no idea if it’s contagious.’_ She told him, viciously.

 _‘That’s why you don’t **do** that!’ _He exclaimed, incredulous, attempting to wipe off the gunk.

A purple stain stayed across the bridge of his nose and spattered on his cheeks like purple freckles.

She snickered.

He sighed. _‘We need to fix this.’_

She sobered. _‘Yeah. But… how, exactly. You aren’t exactly an expert, Mr. Smart Guy, on magic. And we don’t know anyone… except maybe Lo…’_

 _‘Hannah,’_ he corrected absently. The man frowned.

She glanced up at him and sighed.

 _‘You’re thinking.’_ She accused. He nodded absently.

 _‘Excuse me a moment.’_ Before he could wander off, she muttered _‘oh no you don’t, arsehole’_ and grabbed him by the hair.

He yelped and spun around, and she stared at the clump of blonde she was holding.

He stared too.

 _‘…I always said you needed a haircut, working with all that machinery…’_ she commented, weakly, glancing at him askance.

 _‘We need to fix this.’_ He repeated, firmly, and grabbed her (not fluxed) arm, then dragged her into the main tower.

He went to the nearest computer, hesitated, then sent off a missive.

A robot came rumbling into the room.

 _‘Hey buddy.’_ The man muttered. _‘Got a message. ‘Where is he? You know who I mean’ – send it to… Ravs, please.’_

The robot saluted its creator, and trundled off.’

 _‘That may take a day or so.’_ The Scientist mused. _‘Let’s go to Nilesy, see if he’s got any idea where they buggered off to.’_ He stated, briskly. 

She was frowning at him when he turned around.

_‘Ah.’_

_‘Ah?’_ She demanded. _‘ **Ah?** A day, Lal? Really? We don’t have that kind of time – and we’ve found it is in fact, contagious, sorry about that – it could be **deadly,** for all we know!’ _

The Scientist deflated, and she’d never seen him show quite so much ( ~~genuine~~ ) emotion.

 _‘I know.’_ He replied, quietly. He pursed his lips, and pushed his goggles up.

His eyes were clear blue.

(They flashed green. She still hadn’t asked.)

The man looked directly at her.

_‘But who I’m looking for – he’s the best bet we’ve got.’_

Lalna added, under his breath but loud enough for her to hear, _‘regretfully.’_

She didn’t ask.

(She never asked. Not about his past, at any rate. Once, and its consequences, is enough, thank you very much.)

They left the castle.

(It was a long fly to the place Lomadia and Nilesy were at.)

* * *

 


	2. Oasis.

The river ran gently through their little strech of desert, as the sun shone harshly on the surroundings and the dead bushes stayed still in the lack of breeze. Living in the desert was a strange thing, so vastly different from the forests and plains of his past homes, too simliar to other places the Mage had spent too long in. 

There is difference enough, however; in the light, in the heavy air, in the lack of opressive noise. The absence of the void, the dark wings against the black sky, the tall towers, the single, floating island...

The small cave he'd dug for himself, hidden, from Her gaze, inside one of Her towers.

Zoey, who's leg had healed without complication and who's arm was powered with something a little easier to come by than chocolate milk (given they don't live in a jungle, so they don't have jungle trees, so they can't grow cocoa beans, so they can't make milk, so she can't use it to power her arm) and was, currently, alight with the harsh green of science, as she used it to blast sand off of her chair.

Times like this, Rythian misses equivolancy. Misses the lack of technology, misses the lack of need for  _science_ in certain circumstances. But...

_needs must._

' _Heya, Rythian,'_ Zoeya says, bubbly and happy and carefree, and Rythain's shoulders relax. He stares across the open desert in front of him, across the gap the river has gouged in the landscape, and smiles, a small, tiny bit, under his scarf. The smile drops, though, when he remembers why he's out here, staring, thinking.

' _Zoey,'_ He greets. _'How are you feeling?'_

 _'Pretty great!_ ' She chirps, happily.  _'Fishton hasn't shown up yet, though...'_ She adds, sadly. 

' _You'll find him,'_ Rythian says, even though he knows she likely won't.

 _'Obviously,'_ Zoeya smiles, nudges him in the shoulder. _'I'm amazing. You're amazing. Teep's amazing. With our combined efforts, there's nothing we can't do!'_ She laughs. _'So yeah. I'll find him."_

Rythian smiles slightly at her, again, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

 _'What's got you out here, bein' all broody?'_ Zoeya asks, after a moment's pause. _'Cause you've been all quiet all day, since you saw Ravs on your trip an' I've - an' we've been worried.'_

Rythian softens, at her tone, and decides to be honest with her. 

_'Lalna sent a message.'_ Rythian says. Zoey gasps.

_'He wants to meet. Said something's happened and he needs my expertise, which is entirely uncharacteristic. I supose it's a trap.'_

_'So we're going then?'_ Zoey asks. _'On a great new adventure? I mean, we've been cooped up here for ages and it's getting kinda sucky, being stuck in this biome for so long. I mean, it's way too hot out here. I miss -'_ She sighs, stares out at the horizon.

Rythian misses Blackrock, too.

 _'The journey'll be fun,'_ Zoeya says, optimistically.

 _'They'll have returned by the time we arrive,'_ Rythian says, thinking aloud.

There wasn't any question that the Mage would go. He may hate the other, may hate the Scientist with everything he has, but... he made a pact, and as it was Rythian himself that suggested it, Rythian doesn't want to break it.

 _'Alright,'_ Rythian says, and Zoey whoops happily. _'Awesome! I'll get the band together, and we'll make our way over.'_

 _'I'll gather supplies,'_ Rythian sighs out, and hopes he isn't making a horrible mistake.

 

* * *

It's weeks worth of travel, with Rythain's refusal to use a jetpack. Zoey flies lazily overhead, scouting around and pushing skeletons and the like off the cost, getting them in places where they can't hit Rythian on the boat. Teep is flying around treetops sniping things, and the two of them stop their 'assaults' (in Zoeya's case, it's more gentle nudging) to gather food. Zoeya sets up camp whenever they tire, and Rythian and Teep protect the area all the while. 

It's slow going, but it's going. It's always hard to tell the passage of time overall; days are easy, but weeks and months are harder if you aren't keeping track. Snow only falls in the tundra, after all, and the sun always shines for the same length of time and rain always falls at the same rate everywhere else.

' _Where are we now?'_ Zoey asks, one evening.

 _'About halfway,'_ Rythian says, from memory. They've passed Blackrock, now. Passing via the coast meant they didn't see it, and that's - probably for the best.

 _'We're really far from everyone, aren't we?'_ Zoey asks, quietly, as she nibbles on an apple.

That's the point, of course. Rythian hadn't wanted them to be found.

 _'We could relocate,'_ Rythian says, regardless. _'Move nearer Ravs and Minty and Nilesy, Lomadia.'_

Zoeya humms. _'But you wouldn't feel safe, would ya?'_ She asks, and sometimes she's far too perceptive. 

She's not happy where they are, though, Rythian can see that.

Zoey nudges him in the shoulder. _'Hey, broody, everythin's good, alright?'_ She smiles. _'I'm good where we are. We're in this together, right?'_

Rythian's expression softens. ' _Right,'_ The Mage says, and the Princess smiles wider.

* * *

Perhaps around the month mark, maybe even over by a week or so, the Mage, the Princess, and the Dinosaur reach the Scientists' base. 

The Scientist _and_ the Aprentices' base, rather.

Rythian had never made it up to the doors when he visited the last time, and this time appears to be no different. It's almost angering, in the sense that Lalna blew his base up because he went all the way under it without anyone the wiser, but Rythian's too tired for that. Too tired for that, too tired of the Scientist.

He just wanted to be left alone, but alas. No such luck.

 _'Rythian,'_ Lalna greets. It looks like they just got back from somewhere; Lalna has his power gloves on and is decked out in full armour, and his apprentice - Nano, Rythian remembers - is similarly atired, just without the augmented gauntlets.

 _'Lalna,'_ Rythian says. _'You called on the crisis clause.'_ He states.

 _'There's a - bit of a problem,'_ The scientist hesitates, then removes his helmet.

Rythian swears, without meaning to. 'What have you _done,'_ The Mage says, angry beyond belief.

Lalna hesitates, then points up. Rythian looks, automatically, and sees the - the _abomination of science and magic_ on his roof.

The Node Sphere. Rythian feels sick.

 _'Woah, you just went very pale,'_ The apprentice says. _'That can't be good.'_

 _'What have you **done?'**_ Rythian says, helplessly. _'What **have** you **done?'**_ _  
_

_'Oh that's not good,'_  Zoey says. ' _Ryth?'_

The Mage rounds on Lalna, furious and horrified and downright _terrified_ and the man in question automatically raises his glove up, palm flat and pointed at Rythian. 

_'Don't be rash,'_ Lalna says, quickly. _'I-'_

Rythian usually pays attention to the rules of a universe, but he can't, not now, not with this literally hanging above their heads, dooming them all. His hand clenches, involuntarily, and with a horrible noise, eerily familiar, the void closes around the glove and Lalna jerks back before it just - 

Dissapears.

Nano jolts and looks around, sword out. 'Did you hear that?' She asks. 'Did an - _can_ Endermen do _that?_ Why didn't you tell me!'

' _You - I can't believe - I worked hard to make that, Rythian!'_

They say this at the same time. With some realisation, Nano turns towards Rythian, sword still held out in front of her. She removes her helmet with her free hand, and Rythian _flinches._

 _'I know, I look gross,'_ Nano says, dissmissively. _'We asked you here to fix it. But, man, what the fuck was **that?'**_

 _'A reaction,'_ Rythian manages. 

_'A reaction-'_

_'Hey, Nano!'_  Zoey says, cheerfully, a little strained.  _'Hi! I'm Zoey, by the way, sorry about - I mean, just... there's a lot of muchness going on and - okay, so it seems bad, but - look, if someone pointed a gun at you would you let them?'_ She asks. 

_'Well, no, but he's the one that rounded on lal like - like he was about to kill him!'_

_'I just might,'_  Rythian says, darkly.  _'Do you have any idea what he's done? To you? To himself? To the world?'_

 _'To you, you mean,'_  Lalna says.  _'It was just a - spat. And we're over it now, aren't we? Peace treaty and everything.'_

 _''Spat?'_  Rythian asks, dangerously.

 _'Okay!'_ Zoey says, loudly. _'We've all had a long trip, could we like, um, rest before we -'_

 _'Kill each other?'_  Nano asks.  _'Probably a good idea. You can bunk in my tower, if you like. It was yours last if I remember.'_

Zoey grins brightly. _'Did you like the mushrooms?'_

 _'Ahh -'_  Nano hesitates.  _'There wasn't room for anything if I kept them.'_

Zoey frowns lightly, then shrugs. _'Well, that's okay! I can just plant smaller ones.'_

Nano nods, and goes to the minecart track the Rail Brothers must have installed, given their logo everywhere, then hops in. _'C'mon,'_ She says, and with one last glance, reassuring, promising saftey, asking for civility, towards Rythian, Zoey hops in as well. Teep pushes another onto the track and follows behind.

That leaves the Mage and the Scientist, once again, alone. For the second time too soon after the first, after so many, many worlds and decades of distance and anger and -

' _Well you're not staying in the castle.'_ Lalna says.

' _I wouldn't want to,'_ Rythian says with disgust. The Node Sphere he can see from here is - horrifying, sickening. Getting close would actually _hurt._

The taint is - very different to the void. They don't particularly like each other. And with the recent attack from the Queen - relatively speaking, since she hadn't left the End before, _ever -_ this happening so soon? It's... worrying.

Like the Mother and the Queen are vying for power. For control.

(That doesn't bode well for anyone.)

 _'There's an old base near here,'_ Lalna says. _'Come on.'_

There's a small house, partially overtaken by nature, that stinks of old machinery and outdated fuel sources. There's soot on the ceiling - Lalna never did bother with ventillation - and weeds are growing through the floor. The boards are old and need replacing, and the place feels abandoned and uncared for. 

Obviously, the place used to be Lalna's. Probably from when he first arrived here, in this World. Used and upgraded and abandoned. At least Rythian took his apart, didn't leave it to decay and the building materials to be wasted.

Lalna gestures to the old bed, and Rythian rolls his eyes. ' _Thanks,'_ He says, sarcastically.

' _You're not staying in the castle,'_ Lalna says.

 _'Like I said, I wouldn't **want** to,' _Rythian says. The castle is too like Lalna, too much Lalna's for Rythian to feel at least able to stand at the best vantage point and have all his magic at the ready just in case there; sleeping would be out of the question. This place is so clearly uncared for that it's not really Lalna's anymore. His quirks are still evident, in the style of build, in the arrangement of machinery, in the lack of ammenities like a kitchen or a bathroom; Lalna never cared for the simple things. Never cared to make his base a home, his spaces livable places.

Rythian was similar, once, but - well. Zoeya.

 _'Okay,'_ Lalna says. _'If you say so.'_

 _'I don't know how you can stand to be in it,'_  Rythian says.  _'That Node Sphere...'_ Rythian doesn't sudder, but it's a close thing. 

_'What's so wrong with it?'_

_'What you're inviting in.'_  Rythian is glad of the overgrown foliage; it hides the castle, it hides the node. Rythian sends a prayer up to the Gods that would listen that Zoey is safe there, for the night, in the lion's den, and then glares at Lalna for good measure. 

The Scienstist snorts.

 _'You haven't changed.'_ Lalna says.

 _'It's you who hasn't changed.'_ Rythian replies. _'How's your apprentice? The taint will take over, you know. Have there been any strange lapses? Has she acted out of character?'_

 _'No,'_  Lalna lies. Rythian can see it in his face - he's a good liar, but Rythian's known him since before he learned how.  _'Not even a little.'_

 _'Well that's too bad,'_  Rythian says, looking at Lalna flatly, because the Scientist knows that lying is  stupid in this situation, or at least, he _should_.  _'I'm sorry to hear that you've doomed another person with your carelessness.'_

Lalna scowls at him, this time. Rythian stares, simply, blank faced, and Lalna cracks by leaving the building.

* * *

 

 

 


	3. Rewind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. Perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.”  
> ― Warsan Shire 
> 
> In a way, that is the case. Perhaps, in other ways, it is sadder to become enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> backstory part 1.

 

 

> Once, there was a World. A lively world, with strange, outdated rules; no hunger, little science other than the strange red stones and derivative machinery - a world with little magic, except the portals. And the creatures that came from the other side.

* * *

The first time an Enderman was spotted - before Endermen were called thus - it was in a cave, and it was spotted by one Player. When the other Player in the cave saw it, pandemonium occurred; scared by a strange, tall creature, black as night but even more so, with eyes that glowed and a mouth that stretched wide, unnatural strange noises that sounded -

distorted. Like speech played backward.

_Hello._

_'Hello,'_ The bravest of them said, or perhaps the stupidest. A small man, a dwarf, with a bright orange beard. _'Hey there fella!'_ And he was very used to being too short to look into people's eyes - _'you want me to crane my neck? That really hurts after a while, y'know!' -_ so he didn't look into this strange creature's glowing eyes. 

For even though death is temporary (and the reason for that is convoluted and timeless, from the far-flung future back to the distant past) it is still  _death..._ that young, brave, foolhardy dwarf is still glad of this. All these years later. 

(That is, until he dies, permanently, but then, this isn't about him.)

(This is context.)

The dwarf chats with the tall fella for a bit. Not long, really, because the guy ain't so talkative, really. The abomination of the End speaks in strange backwards words that do yet sound like speech - _'Hello',_ it says, _'Hey,'_ it adds. _'What's up?'_ it continues, a strange repetition, like words escape it, like it knows how to greet but it's forgotten the rest.

 _'What you doing here, eh?'_ The dwarf asks it.

 _'Look for the eye,'_ He hears.

 _'Well, good luck with that!'_ He says, cheerfully, and carries on with his mining expedition.

The pandemonium mentioned previously comes later, when his much taller friend, the alien, finds the same - or supposedly the same - 'tall fella'.

* * *

It's a strange thing, of course, that the same day The Dwarf and The Spaceman find the first Enderman, so too does a new 'Player' come to town.

He's a Mage, or so he says. There's not much magic in this world yet; too young, too underdeveloped. There's no oil, no ways of gathering electricity. Only pistons and potions, only portals and basic tools of defense and weaponry, along with the most basic of construction and crafting.

There's caution, but not much. The Mage builds himself a tower on a tree, and like all other Players' builds his float without support, and like all other Players he doesn't need food, and like all other Players, he wakes up in his bed once killed. The suspicion fades, the caution evaporates. He has his potions, and nobody questions his -

Well.

One person questions it.

 _'So what's with the full face getup, anyway?'_ The dubiously named 'Scientist' asks. Dubious, because what he knows is old 'magic', things like TNT, flint and steel, and the world is too young for much else. Redstone is bulky and time-consuming, and he knows it too, which is the only reason people even consider him one.

The Mage has more standing in his position. Because he knows more than what the others do - he can do more, which is why, though the caution is gone and the suspicion is absent, he stays in his tower on the tree at the edge of the village.

The Mage can - well he can teleport. Without a God-given, Command to do so.

There's more. Parlour tricks, he calls them, tone dry.

The Scientist, living up to his moniker, _itches_ to know how it _works._

But he's a nosy sort regardless, and he knows what everyone else looks like. Except for this one. Except for the Mage.

The Mage - Rythian, that is his Name - sighs. The Scientist, for now, LividCoffee (Names aren't always the best), who we'll call Livid, shifts where he stands, impatient.

 _'It's for the aesthetic,'_ The Mage says, wryly, and the Scientist laughs.

* * *

(It's not for the aesthetic, but the Scientist hadn't believed him for a _second_ , anyway.)

* * *

The Alien, or The Spaceman, or The Constant, or - well, whatever you choose to call him, is tall enough to look right into the Enderman's eyes the second he sees it.

It screams at him, a horrible sound, and his blade slices into the creature in a panicked flurry, the shine of the diamond glinting in the torchlight. The Spaceman screams too, having never seen the like before, and he kills it, strikes a clean blow through the neck. It disappears, as all Mobs do, but it leaves him shaken.

He wonders if what they did to - well. That _mess_ of a time-loop is best left ignored.

(Of course, it's vehemently _not,_ but well, this isn't his story, either.)

The Alien picks up the Eye it dropped, a strangely glassy sphere. It seems to still work, when he moves it, it follows him, and that's _greatly_ unnerving. But still, The Alien puts it into his inventory, and he lights up the cavern, then calls for his friend.

* * *

They make it back to the village a few weeks later. Everyone greets them warmly, asks how the excursion went. They cheer at The Dwarf's diamonds and they take great consideration of the strange Eye that The Spaceman found. 

The new Player, the Mage, stays at the back of the crowd. He disappears before the two Heroes can greet him, and most notice.

 _'Maybe he's just shy,'_ The Dwarf suggests. _'I mean. Not to boast or anything, but we're a big fucking deal, mate.'_

Which is _true,_ but The Alien - Xephos, of course - has...

A bad feeling.

* * *

The Mage adds a floor to the tower every now and again. It's a large build, reaches high into the sky, and he's only been here for a week, by this point.

By this point, Livid is reasonably sure he can fly, or that he has some other way of suspending himself in the air. He must do. Building is _hard,_ and it takes time. Livid thinks he's a reaonably good architect, since you kind of have to be, as a Player, but he's not a particularly fast one.

The clouds hang low in the sky, and the Tower passes through them. The Scientist isn't sure what The Mage is trying to do, here, but he's intrigued anyway.

Livid climbs the ladder up the tree, then enters the Mage's tower. Rythian is not present on the lowest floor, so The Scientist climbs the indoor ladder, up and up and up and _up,_ and he finds the Mage sitting on the top floor of the still unfinished tower.

 _'You're gonna hit the limit soon,'_ The Scientist says.

The mage _hums_ in agreement. _'I am testing where that is,'_ He admits. Livid shrugs, thinks _'Fair enough',_ then checks out the Mage's bookshelves.

They're strange.

 _'I wouldn't do that if I were you,'_ The Mage says, and then seems to realise that sounds like a threat. _'I mean, they're in my - native language. You won't be able to read them, it's just a waste -'_

 _'Teach me, then,'_  Livid says, dropping down across from the Mage. The Scientist adjusts his goggles and grins. He's never backed down from a challenge, and a new language is definitely something  _new._ Anyway - knowledge is knowledge. 

You never know when something might be _useful._

The Mage hesitates. His eyes, a strange, jade green, asses the Scientist. Livid feels a bit like he's being interrogated without any questions being asked, and that's pretty uncomfortable, but he lets it slide. The Mage seems like a pretty lonely guy, really, not the sort to have friends, or the sort to know how to not look like you're about to murder someone.

The 'Rythian The Not Evil Mage's Tower' sign only sort of helps. It makes him seem like he has a sense of humour, at least.

 _'Alright,'_ Rythain says. _'Never done that before.'_

 _'How about a knowledge trade to, uh, sweeten the deal?'_ Livid offers regardless, because if there's one constant, it's that they both like teaching their respective crafts to other people.

 _'I don't really...'_ Rythian hesitates. _'Science, I mean...'_

 _'Don't be a technophobe,'_  Livid dismisses.  _'C'mon, man. Redstone's a whole load of fun to mess with, and it's only fair, right?'_

Rythian shrugs. _'I don't have anything else to do,'_ He says, which is pretty sad. Thing is, that's not saying much, since Livid doesn't really have anything else to do either. On this world - and pretty much ever since Livid Spawned in on that first day in his first world - all there's really been is... mining and learning and crafting and making bases and just, trying to get through to the next day, and then the day after that, and then the day after that. What with the mobs - especially Creepers, _especially_ before they started making noise - it's always been very difficult to settle down and just. Make progress, in anything. Builds, tech, magic. All of it is generally... put to the side, in order to survive. Too busy making better swords and learning how to forge to just, make a circuit. Or something. Livid has ideas in his head but nobody to bounce them off of, because Xephos' memories are all kablooey and he doesn't remember half the tech his people knew but remembers too much of the rest to be of any use, Minty just wants to build a bar and make drinks, not that there's much to do there, since there aren't any drinks _to_ make, Honeydew is way too focused on digging and Zoeya's... difficult to pin down for a minute-long conversation, let alone an in-depth chat about the logistics of getting redstone down to a small enough amount for - what he's thinking of, and then how to channel it through and how to send the right signals and - argh.

It's a mess. So, really. Livid doesn't have anything better to do than learn whatever the Mage can teach him, and, in turn, he doesn't have anything better to do than teach what he can to - Rythian.

So.

 _'Great,'_ Livid says. _'We'll start tomorrow.'_

 _'After I finish the next floor,'_ Rythian says, just as it starts to rain. The Scientist has worked in worse conditions without care so he stays put, but Rythian stands up in a flurry of robes, probably worried about all the books and shit.

Well, it's not like he has anything better to do. The Scientist stands, grabs some wood from a nearby chest, and offers to help.

* * *

After Xephos and Honeydew return, the 'Tall fellas' start showing up. Not 'more often', just - at all. It's not really a problem, since the village houses are generally too cramped for the Mobs to fit inside, but. Still.

 _'The buggers can teleport past the wall,'_ Xephos grumbles at the ground below. Rythian's tower has turned out to be a pretty good addition, since it gives them all a good vantage point to see the village from, so the Mage has graciously turned one floor of it - as it's still getting taller by the day - into a sort of 'war room', or 'planning room', or something. There's a map table and a balcony and some equiptment chests, one for each resident, which contain potion supplies. It's a nice gesture, and The Princess, Zoeya, smiles when she sees that she gets one as well, even though she doesn't live in the village.

Lomadia - who is as obsessed with owls as it gets, for someone who has never seen one, and for whom we will go with the currently unapplicable title of The Witch for ease later on - stands on the balcony overlooking the village. There's a farm below, and a house for each person, though most of them bunk in each other's houses enough that there's only really a distinct difference in style and decoration based on who built it; their things are scattered among all the chests in the five houses. There's a farm, too, and a Testificate village just a few chunks away from the border fence. You can see Zoeya's forest home off to the east, and it looks... nice enough. Quaint, for sure.

 _'We should upgrade it anyway,'_ Lomadia says. _'Spiders are a right bitch to deal with.'_

There is, of course, enough torches everywhere thanks to Xephos that no monsters spawn inside the perimeter line - but, The Witch is right. Things can still get past it.

 _'I can do a cute as heck makeover,'_ Zoeya offers, smiling. _'I'll be like, the Overseer of the Build or somethin'.'_

The others all natter on about the logistics and saftey of replacing the outer fence with a taller wall, maybe adding a glass roof to the area, and what about the Tall Fellas, how are we gonna stop those guys getting in?, when The Mage descends the ladder into the room. Livid, who bores easily of talksa about 'saftey' and 'realistic goals' drifts away from the map table (the war table, if you're honest, but they're not at war, so...) over to the Mage.

 _'Wanna join in with the logistics talk?'_ Lvid asks.

 _'Not particularly,'_ The Mage states. _'There was a - what are we calling them?'_

 _'Tall Fellas, if you ask Honeydew,'_  Livid says.

Something flashes in the Mage's eyes, for a moment.

 _'Doubt they like that,'_ He says. _'Regardless - there was a 'tall fella' on the roof. There's not much you can do about them. Building the wall higher won't help - though maybe making it jut out a little at a higher point will stop the spiders,'_ He adds. _'Like I've done with the tower - but, anyway.'_ Rythian moves over to the chests and deposits more potions in each, an equal amount distributed between them.

 _'What this time?'_ Livid asks.

 _'Nothing special, fire resist,'_ Rythian says, standing and brushing off his robes. _'Easy enough. Got another batch to make, if you want to try.'_

 _'Sure,'_  Livid says. 

* * *

The Endermen grow in numbers, as the days go by. But days turn into weeks, months even. Nothing really changes, except people grow closer, further apart, back together again.

It's how things go, when there's nothing to do but -

Talk.

* * *

_'What language is this anyway?'_ Livid asks, one day.

 _'A language like any other,'_ Rythian says, vaguely - distracted, by the text he's reading.

 _'Once upon a time in a realm far, far away there was a beautiful and wonderful kingdom, nestled in a valley surrounded by massive trees and great lakes, with mountaintops high up into the skies, and beautiful flowers and animals as far as the eye could see. The people living here called it the Realm of Dawn.'_ Livid looks up from the book.

 _'Oh, good, you've translated the passage,'_ Rythian says, looking up from his own book.

 _'What is this, a fairytale?'_ Livid asks.

 _'A legend,'_ Rythian says. _'Of my people.'_

 _'Players don't have people.'_ Livid states. It's a fact. Notch's Will Spawns a player in, and that's that.

Rythian shakes his head, almost - disappointed. _'Of course, they do.'_ He says. _'Ask the Heroes. Don't you know the tales? Mistral City, the Skylords... enough players gather together, they become a 'people'.'_

 _'But Players Respawn, they don't reproduce like pigs or cows,'_  Livid points out.

Rythian hesitates. _'People want heirs,'_ He says. _'Everyone does. Through apprentices or clones or - other means. Everyone wants a legacy.'_

There's a strange tone to his words, and the Scientist has gotten better at decoding Rythian's particular brand of body language and tonal expression, but the lack of a face to read still stalls him at points, still makes it harder to figure the other Player out.

Yet. There's a strange sort of... ominous nature, to what he just said - to what he was thinking about, behind the words he spoke. His tone was dark and gloomy; there's a story there, and not a happy one.

 _'Where are your people now?'_ Livid asks.

 _'Long gone.'_ Rythian says, with finality. _'The world is young. But not that young. You've seen the signs of people long lost, haven't you? Mineshafts. Rooms of old mossy stone with a strange cage of a block that spawns Mobs in, depending on what's trapped inside.'_

Livid frowns. _'The Nether,'_ Rythian says. _'You don't think you were the first people to figure out how to stick a few bits of obsidian together and light it on fire to make a portal, do you? Where did the Fortresses come from? The skeletons of the long dead? Pigs don't Spawn in the Nether, but Zombie Pigmen do. For a Scientist, you don't ask many questions, Livid.'_

 _'Hey,'_  Livid says, annoyed.  _'I'm very much a scientist, thank you. Which out of the two of us can make a duplicator?'_

Rythian rolls his eyes.  _'I've been led to believe there's more to being a Scientist than that. I forget, who told me it was more about the mindset again?'_

Livid huffs out an annoyed breath and stands. _'It is about the mindset.'_ He says. _'And I ask questions! I ask a lot of questions. Where you're from, what the language is called, how potions work, what's with the Tall Guys just showing up out of fucking nowhere. I ask questions.'_

 _'I don't know.'_ Rythian stands as well.  _'I don't have all the answers! I don't know where I'm from. I don't know what the language is called, i just know it. I didn't study how potions work, just how to make them. The 'Tall Fellas' just showed up, at one point, because that_ ** _happens_** _in worlds of this age! Strongholds start appearing and **endermen** show up and I don't know why, or why I know that. I just do.'_

Rythian looks angry and - yeah, upset. The Mage is there one second and gone the next, and Livid sighs mentally.

Shit.

* * *

It's Livid's fault, really, that the Mage went missing, so when Lomadia, with little better to do, volunteers to go looking for him, The Scientist straps on his armour, picks up his bow, and grabs the potions from the chest he'd been designated. 

_'Bloody strange that he just up and fucked off, isn't it?'_ Lomadia says. _'The guy's not that new, he should know it isn't safe. Being alone.'_

 _'Strange,'_  Livid repeats, laughs awkwardly.  _'Yeah.'_

There's no real way to track other Players. It's almost a fool's errand, to go looking for him, but they go anyway. Zoeya didn't see him pass her area, so they go to the Testificates' village, and they didn't see him either. There's nothing west or south they can ask, so they go west, first. A few days' travel and they don't find anything, so they go back, then go south.

The further south they go, the more - _Endermen_ they see.

 _'It's weird, isn't it?'_ The Witch wonders. _'They don't attack unless you look at 'em.'_

 _'They don't like being looked at,'_  Livid agreed.  _'Maybe they know they look all messed up.'_

Lomadia glances at the legs of the nearby Enderman, careful not to look at it's face. _'Maybe',_ she agrees, and they go further down into the cave.

There are torches. It might just be leftovers from Xephos and Honeydew's mining excursions, except it wouldn't make sense for there to still be iron in the walls.

 _'What is this place?'_ Lomadia looks around. The stone in front of them, the blocked off path, looks different. Cut into bricks, but mossy and old. _'Another Mob dungeon do you think?'_

_Stone brick structures, to defend against the Mobs. Strongholds, we'll call them. To defend. To hold the point._

_The portals can't be found._

Livid remembers one of the books he'd translated. _'I'll build a camp here,'_ He says. _'We'll need some of the others.'_

 _'Mob dungeons aren't that hard to deal with,'_  Lomadia points out.  _'That's not what this is,'_ Livid says.  _'Trust me. Go back to the village, get some of the others. More gear would help.'_

 _'Alright,'_  The witch nods.  _'Sit tight.'_

The Scientist watches her go, then breaks through the wall and puts the bricks back in place. It's quiet and dark, so he lights it up, the room he's found himself in. There's no Mobs in this room, but he can hear them out in the hall. 

There's the sound of teleportation, and he freezes, just in case it's an Enderman, but it's not.

 _'You followed.'_ Rythian says.

 _'You can't just run off like that,'_ Livid says. _'And not expect people to follow.'_

The Mage inclines his head, acknowledging.

 _'Your people built this, didn't they?'_ The Scientist asks.

 _'... A long time before me.'_ Rythian allows. _'They're legend, or so my books say.'_

 _'You don't know that.'_  Livid says.  _'You said it yourself, you don't know where you came from. There's been a lot of time travel lately, just ask Xephos.'_

 _'True,'_  The Mage sighs.  _'There's a portal in here. The Eye led me here, once I added some blaze powder.'_

 _'Oh.'_  Livid looks around.  _'Why?'_

 _'Look for the eye,'_  Rythian parrots.  _'The Endermen want us to find this place. Do you - remember the Realm of Dawn? The old fable about not letting power get to your head?'_

 _'Yeah,'_  Livid frowns. 

 _'You didn't finish the translation,'_ The Mage says.

 _'How'd the story finish, then?'_ Livid asks.

 _' ****After the Princess started her ritual, to stop death, something went wrong. The survivors were all tall, ink-black men and women with dead eyes, nearly all of their former human features gone, except for a horrifyingly wide mouth. The Princess’s mother was dead – which was perhaps_ a mercy _. She never had to see what her daughter had turned into. No longer was she_ the beautiful _girl with a friendly smile and a helping hand. She was now a terrible black dragon with horrible eyes and two massive wings, the sounds of which echoed throughout the emptiness of the world. How much of the Princess remained behind those terrifying eyes, no one knows._

_'She is immortal now. So are her people. But the Realm of Dawn is dead. All that remains… is The End. And its queen.'_

Tall, ink-black men and women, with dead eyes, and nearly all their former human features gone, except for a horrifyingly wide mouth...

and two eyes.

 _'The Realm of Dawn...'_ Livid looks at Rythian. _'Your people. They're the ones who escaped, right?'_

 _'Not all of us made it in time.'_  Rythian says.  _'From what I gather. The portals here - they were made to rescue the others, but it was too late. After, they - decided to make it... make the portals the only way to cross the dimensions. They tied them to the Queen. Once she dies, one appears where she landed. Most of the books I have are - magic, engineering. They tried their best at buiding ways to cross at will but nothing worked. Once you go to The End, you can only leave once the Dragon is dead.'  
_

_'Well that's mildly terrifying,'_  Livid says.  _'Why come here then?'_

_'Revenge.'_

_'Well, that's as good a motivator as any.'_

* * *

It would take too long to tell you the rest of the story. It would take too long, and divulge too many secrets, and reveal things ahead of their time to be known. 

Suffice to say, only one person entered the end. The portal was destroyed. And it was years before he was seen again.

(But he was different. And he didn't remember. And perhaps that was for the best.)

(Betrayal happens anyway. Once, twice, thrice, it doesn't matter. For them, it's inevitable.)

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alkg;laksjg I'm dumb, replaced the wrong word with Testificates... i wrote this very late at night for my excuse.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll leave this as 1/? because I'm actually interested in where I could go from here, but I'm not certain at the moment if I will actually continue this. The direction would certainly include other characters and plot threads, of course, and if I can remember them, it will include my old ideas of lore and headcanons. Not all characters will be included, because I have not watched their series' and I don't know them well enough. 
> 
> Hopefully, I'll continue at least one of the yogs fics I posted today, lol.


End file.
